


Holding On

by yavannauk



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Episode Tag, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-18
Updated: 2010-01-18
Packaged: 2017-11-25 08:30:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/637001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yavannauk/pseuds/yavannauk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes guilt needs an outlet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holding On

**Author's Note:**

> Based on Ximeria's wonderfully inspirational drawing, this turned into post episode 2:12 angsty porn! I'm not sure how much time we're supposed to assume passes between the last two episodes, but for the purposes of this story it's at least a reasonable amount. Grateful thanks to Oran for betaing this for me and helping to polish away the rough spots!

Merlin has been Arthur's manservant for almost two years now, and in that time he's only rarely seen him let his emotions get the better of him. Arthur has taken the loss of Morgana particularly badly, though. He's pushing himself harder than ever during training and patrols, working himself to the point of exhaustion, and when he does return to his chambers his moods are unpredictable and bleak.

It doesn't help that Merlin is also struggling with his own guilt over what he was forced to do to Morgana in order to save Camelot from the Knights of Medhir. He wishes he could tell Arthur that he has nothing to blame himself for, but that would raise questions that Merlin still isn't ready to answer. He's tried pointing out to Arthur that he was facing knights animated by magic while battling a magical sickness, but regardless of Merlin's efforts Arthur seems intent on shouldering all the responsibility himself.

Merlin knows something has to give, but decides to allow Arthur a little longer before he acts. Though in the end, it's taken out of his hands. Arthur is called to a meeting with his father that proves to be the final straw, and when he comes back he's in a dark mood. Of course Uther has had little patience with the lack of progress in bringing Morgana home, but he's apparently reached the point where he's ready to lay the failure to find even a trace of her at Arthur's feet. Arthur hardly needs more guilt heaped upon him, and by the time he returns to his chambers he's clearly struggling under the weight of it.

Merlin can feel how Arthur's shoulders are drawn tight, taut as a bowstring, as he carefully helps him out of his jacket. Before he can continue undressing Arthur, though, the prince pulls away and strides across the room. When he reaches the bed Merlin can see Arthur's hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. His frustration is clear and Merlin wonders if he's going to lash out, to punch or throw something to relieve the tension knotted up in his body. Instead, Arthur stumbles forward a few more steps until he can clutch at the nearest bedpost, sagging against it as if it's the only thing keeping him upright. Merlin wonders if he should say anything, but he chooses to bite his lip and wait, uncertain of Arthur's reaction.

"Does he think that I don't care?" Arthur says eventually, his voice a raw, grating sound. "Does he really believe that I'm doing any less than the best I can?"

"Sire, I'm sure he doesn't," Merlin ventures cautiously. "No doubt he's just as worried as you are and this is simply his way of expressing it."

Arthur rests his forehead on the bedpost, the golden circlet of his crown clinking hollowly against the heavily carved wood.

"I would give anything to find Morgana and bring her home safely," he says, and his voice betrays how exhausted he is. "I just don't know where else to look."

"You're doing everything you can, Arthur," Merlin says, drawn by the helplessness in Arthur's tone.

He walks across to where Arthur is standing and carefully rests a hand on his shoulder. Merlin half expects Arthur to shrug off his attempt at comfort as an unwanted intrusion, but he doesn't. He turns until his back is to the bedpost instead, moving slowly enough not to displace Merlin's hand. When their gazes lock, the look in Arthur's eyes is bleak.

"So many dead ends, Merlin," Arthur says. "What more can I do?"

"You'll think of something," Merlin replies with an encouraging smile. "You always do."

Arthur gives a humourless laugh. "Such faith. I only wish I shared it. Gods, Merlin, I'm so tired..."

Arthur's head droops again and comes to rest on Merlin's shoulder. Merlin hesitates for a moment, but when Arthur makes no move to pull away he slides his hand up from Arthur's shoulder until it's resting lightly on the back of his head. The line of Arthur's neck is still tense and Merlin lets his fingers drift over the bare skin, down towards the collar of his tunic. Arthur makes a small sound, Merlin isn't sure if it's a laugh or a moan, and slumps more heavily against Merlin.

"Arthur?" Merlin questions uncertainly. "What...?"

"Damn you, Merlin," Arthur says, the words muffled against Merlin's jacket. "You know what I need. Just... just stop me from thinking about it for a while."

It's Merlin's turn to tense now, because this isn't something Arthur asks of him very often. As much as their friendship has strengthened over time, only rarely does Arthur initiate anything physical between them and, from his words, Merlin knows exactly what Arthur is asking for. He tilts his head and presses an almost chaste kiss to the messy strands of Arthur's hair.

"If that's what you want, Arthur," he says softly.

"It is," Arthur replies, his voice steady. "Please, Merlin."

Merlin rests both his hands against Arthur's shoulders and pushes until he stands upright again.

"Here?" he asks.

"Yes," Arthur agrees and turns to face the bedpost again, hiding his expression from Merlin when he adds, "Will... will you undress for me? I want to feel you."

"Of course." Merlin still gets a little awkward about being naked in Arthur's presence, but given what they're about to do that seems somewhat ridiculous. Besides, if it's what Arthur needs then he won't refuse. He quickly begins to strip out of his clothes, pausing only to ask, "And you?"

"No, not yet," Arthur demurs. "Only as much as is necessary for you to..." He waves a hand vaguely in the direction of the waistband of his breeches.

"As you wish," Merlin says, a little disappointed because he loves having the freedom to touch all of Arthur's skin. He hopes Arthur will relent later, but for now Merlin goes and retrieves a bottle of salve from the armoire. It's more usually used on Arthur's training injuries, but is just as useful for other purposes.

When he returns to his side, Merlin can only stare at the picture Arthur makes. The prince has his eyes closed and his cheek resting against the bedpost. His hands are holding onto the wood so tightly that his knuckles are white with strain. Arthur looks both beautiful and vulnerable like this and Merlin's cock hardens at the sight of him.

"Are you ready?" Merlin asks, his fingers reaching for the laces of Arthur's breeches. The hardness he can feel under his hand is really confirmation enough, but he still wants Arthur to say it.

"Yes," Arthur replies on an indrawn breath. His eyes flutter open and he seeks out Merlin as if he's the answer to all his prayers. Maybe, just at the moment, he is.

Merlin smiles at him and unfastens the lacings carefully. He dips a hand inside, sliding it over the hot length of Arthur's cock. Merlin presses his body close to the rigid line of his back and Arthur breathes out a deep sigh as he lets Merlin's weight push him more firmly against the bedpost. Merlin leans in to feather soft kisses against the warm skin at his nape, his cock sliding over the rough fabric of Arthur's breeches with the movement; Arthur greedily pushes back into the contact.

A little reluctantly, Merlin pulls his hand away from the humid warmth at Arthur's groin, but it's very clear what Arthur wants from him so Merlin unstoppers the vial of ointment and then tugs the back of Arthur's breeches down, just far enough to bare the smooth curve of his arse. Arthur gives a soft moan as Merlin drags his fingers down into the space between his cheeks, spreading them apart so that he can spill just a little of the salve there. Carefully, Merlin uses his thumb to spread the salve, pressing it into Arthur's hole to make it slick. He adds more of the ointment and works his forefinger inside Arthur as well, stretching the muscles until they begin to relax for him.

"Enough!" Arthur gasps suddenly, and Merlin realises he wants it to burn, at least a little.

"You're certain?" Merlin says, and when Arthur gives a jerky nod he pulls his hand free once more.

He slicks his own cock with more of the salve and then guides the head between Arthur's cheeks. Arthur pushes back against him again, all impatience, and almost before he's ready for the sensation Merlin is slipping into the hot clutch of Arthur's hole. While he still has the presence of mind for such a mundane task, Merlin stoppers the bottle and tosses it onto the mattress. Then he turns all his attention to Arthur and the overwrought body just waiting for him to fuck it into forgetfulness.

Arthur's hands still have their death grip on the bedpost, his shoulders stiff with the effort. Merlin slides his clean hand between Arthur's shoulder blades, trying to rub away some of the tightness there. As his fingers press comforting circles into the muscle, Arthur's breath hitches and his hips jerk back, forcing Merlin deeper inside him.

"Just fuck me!" he demands, sounding breathless. "I don't need to be cosseted like a child, damn you!"

"It should still be pleasurable, Arthur," Merlin rebukes, his lips teasing at Arthur's ear. "For both of us."

Nevertheless, Merlin lets his hand slide down and around Arthur's waist, pulling him back. He rucks up Arthur's tunic so that his palm finds soft, warm skin and splays his fingers there. He can feel Arthur's muscles quiver under his touch and he clutches just a little harder. Merlin's other hand is still slick with the remnants of the salve and he shoves it back inside Arthur's breeches, curling it around his cock and stroking with a steady rhythm.

When he feels Arthur's body begin to relax into his hands, Merlin allows himself to thrust into his arse. Arthur's muscles are still tight, but at least Merlin can fuck him without causing either of them too much discomfort. That's not what he wants. Arthur may be bent on punishing himself, but Merlin would rather use pleasure to help him find oblivion for a while. His cock is sliding into Arthur more easily now and his balls press against the curve of Arthur's arse with every thrust.

Arthur is making increasingly loud and more desperate sounds, but then they trail off. He turns his head and Merlin can tell he's muffling the cries against his wrist. He wishes Arthur would just let himself be heard, but Merlin can still feel his surrender in the way Arthur's body pushes between the hand around his cock and the cock filling his arse in ever more reckless jerks. When Arthur braces his knee on the mattress, opening himself up completely, Merlin abandons any pretence of control and pounds into him with all the strength he has.

Arthur comes first, spilling hot and wet over Merlin's fist and the front of his breeches. Merlin strokes him through it, rubbing the sticky come into the skin low on his belly until Arthur trembles, nerves too sensitive, and lets his head fall back against Merlin's shoulder. Merlin is close, pressed deep into Arthur's body, wracked by the last shudders of his orgasm. He takes advantage of the vulnerable stretch of Arthur's throat, sucking wet kisses along it as the pleasure finally overwhelms him. Arthur is pliant in his arms as Merlin thrusts into him a few more times then comes hard, head spinning with the emotion of it all. He fills Arthur up with everything he has and then slumps forward, exhausted, grateful that the bed is there to support both of them.

After a while, Arthur makes a wordless noise of complaint and Merlin realises it can't be comfortable with his weight pressing Arthur's face against the carved wood. He stirs enough to stand on his own two feet again and eases carefully out of Arthur's body. But when he moves to use the hem of Arthur's tunic to clean the salve and come from between his cheeks, Arthur reaches a hand back and catches hold of his wrist.

"No, leave it," Arthur says. "I'll take a bath later, but for now I just want to feel it. Thank you, Merlin, I... I feel as if I've taken advantage of you, but..."

"You haven't," Merlin says quickly. He rests his cheek against Arthur's shoulder. "You didn't ask anything of me that I wasn't perfectly willing to give."

Arthur turns until they're facing one another again. Neither of them will ever mention the slight dampness clinging to Arthur's lashes or the deep marks on his lower lip where he's bitten into it. They never do. Nonetheless, Arthur's gratitude is plain in his expression and in the gentle way he brushes his fingers briefly across Merlin's cheek.

"I'm glad I can trust you with this," Arthur says.

It's as close to expressing his feelings as he's likely to get and, given the situation that led to tonight, it's enough to make Merlin's stomach clench with renewed guilt. He dare not voice it, though, for fear of ruining everything.

Instead, Merlin dips his head and murmurs, "Your trust means everything to me."

Arthur doesn't reply in words. He simply presses a kiss to the top of Merlin's bowed head then draws away.

Merlin straightens, feeling at a loss, and without thinking begins to gather up their scattered clothes; it's reassuring to retreat into the familiarity of his usual duties. He's aware of Arthur watching him when he pulls on his breeches, hands fumbling with the laces.

Arthur must see something in his expression because he says abruptly, "Rest, Merlin," and pushes him down on the bed.

He's tired, and Arthur's mattress is far softer than his own, so Merlin doesn't argue. He curls himself into a comfortable position, enjoying the feel of the covers against his skin. A moment or two later, Arthur slides into the bed behind him, a warm presence at his back. Like this, Merlin feels safe, protected, but he can't help but fear the day when Arthur discovers that the trust he has in him has been misplaced.


End file.
